


The Attempt

by Yahtzee



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Awkwardness, Bittersweet, First Time, Multi, Telepathic Sex, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-13
Updated: 2011-12-12
Packaged: 2017-10-27 06:42:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/292763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yahtzee/pseuds/Yahtzee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the following prompt: <i>Charles knows everything about Erik, knows how obsessive and self-destructive he is, how Erik would do anything, give anything, in his quest for vengeance against Shaw. But he also knows that Erik loves him in ways that aren't exactly platonic. </i></p><p><i>I'd like to see a completely straight!Charles, out of pure love and care of Erik, initiate a romantic relationship with him. It can be because he wishes to give Erik something positive in his life or because he thinks it might help change Erik's mind about Shaw, the reason is up to author. Also, while Charles finds intimacy with Erik strange and awkward, he does enjoy the new, non-romantic layers that have developed in their relationship.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Much thanks to my beta, Rheanna!

It began with Charles explaining it was impossible.

They’d been traveling through the country, side by side, sharing rooms and rides and ideas so naturally that Charles found himself amazed he hadn’t known Erik all his life. Although he was trying to keep his psychic talents under rein, to earn the trust Erik had shown in him, Charles knew that sometimes they were bleeding into each other.

When Erik suddenly cared about the vintage of the wine they drank, or laughed out loud without hesitation, that was Charles coming through.

And when Charles found himself becoming flirtatious, holding eye contact longer than he would with anyone else – that was Erik.

Well, he considered himself a sophisticated man. There was no need to create a fuss, and no real worry that Erik would misconstrue these moments as anything more, Charles assumed. They had a friendship – a rare and profound one, from the day they’d met – which turned out to fill so many of the places in the soul that normally only love could reach. Nothing was worth risking that.

Not even Charles’ own unrequited wish, different as it was …

“You’re quite sure?” he’d said after Erik had first refused, not long after they’d begun working together.

“Quite. I can’t see the point anyway. Haven’t you already read my mind?”

“What’s just beneath the surface, yes. That I can hardly help; it’s who I am, what it means to be a telepath.” His whole life, Charles had wished for someone to understand this. He would’ve thought Erik would, if anybody could. “I dove a little deeper to speak to you. But actually going into your mind … I’ve always known that’s possible, to really be one with someone.”

Erik’s dark eyes had flickered up to his, perhaps looking for another motivation, one Charles unfortunately could not supply. “You’ve never done that?”

“No. I’d need someone’s consent.” Or an incredibly pressing reason to do it without consent – but that was a theoretical possibility, not a real one. Charles didn’t like to think about the circumstances that could make that necessary. “And your mind – it’s so … disciplined and ordered, but not cold. I admit, I’m interested.”

“I’m not. Forgive me, my friend. But I spent too much of my childhood with no privacy. No control. I had to fight to get any of it back. I won’t give it up again.”

“All right.” Charles had surrendered with good grace, he thought. Their friendship demanded compromises on both sides.

Charles felt sure they both were sure of where they stood until one night in a Savannah hotel. They’d struck out with a potential recruit – yet again – and were easing their sorrows with a couple of mint juleps at the hotel bar. The flirtatious part was getting started again. “You never cease to surprise me, Erik.”

“How is that?” Erik was relaxed, as relaxed as he ever got, his frosted glass suspended only loosely in his fingers as he leaned on their table.

“You know so much of the world in so many ways, and so little in others.”

“Can you still not recover from the fact that I’ve never had a mint julep before?”

Charles grinned along with him. “Nor seen a single production of a Shakespeare play. Or gone skiing. And yet you can identify a Beethoven symphony within two measures, and you’ve read nearly all of Dickens, and fight with a knife like the devil himself.”

“The devil doesn’t need knives. He has other tools.” Erik set his drink down on the table, very near Charles’; this meant their hands were close too. “I’m self-taught. In everything, really. Unless you count the table manners my mother drilled into me.”

“We can’t forget the table manners.”

Erik ducked his head slightly; he seemed to be staring at their hands next to each other. Although Charles sensed he ought to lean back, take hold of his own drink again, he didn’t. Erik bleeding through again. “When you’re self-taught, you learn everything you can about what you love. You don’t bother learning about what you don’t.”

“It seems as if you’d love Shakespeare.” Charles cocked his head. “For some reason I think you’d appreciate Julius Caesar in particular.”

“Will you read it to me? I’d be interested then.”

Their eyes met, and Charles was hit with a wave of desire –

\--no, not desire. Not only desire, anyway – that had been thick in the air for hours now. Weeks, really. What overcame Charles now, what Erik was feeling, was love.

Charles pulled back. The soft smile faded from Erik’s face. After a brief, awkward silence, Charles motioned for their check.

Neither of them spoke as they went up to their customary room. Charles always showered at night, leaving the bathroom free for Erik in the morning. It had never been a source of concern to him before, and he’d generally undressed in the bathroom – mostly so that the steam would have a chance to take the day’s wrinkles from his clothes. Tonight, though, he felt as if he were hiding.

Which was ridiculous. He’d never minded Erik’s attraction to him – never felt self-conscious about it, never felt as if he had to be childish enough to discourage it. And yet, while congratulating himself about how open-minded and mature he was, he had inadvertently encouraged Erik until that attraction had become more.

He groaned as he thumped his head once against the shower’s tile wall.

Once finished, Charles walked out of the bathroom swaddled in a terry-cloth robe to see Erik lying in bed, but wide awake, and looking at him. A new wave of desire washed over Charles then – so strong his breath caught in his throat – but even stronger was Erik’s sense of resignation, and his determination to resolve the matter for good.

Yet Erik’s expression never changed. “You know, now.”

Charles only nodded.

His eyes were black, unreadable. “I hope I haven’t offended you.”

“Erik. No.” Offend – such a cold word, a distant word. He would allow no distance to come between him and the most extraordinary friend he’d ever found, not even because of this. Charles deliberately walked past his own bed to sit on the side of Erik’s. “How could you offend me by caring for me?”

“You know full well.”

“I’m not small-minded. I see this for what it is. See you for the man you are.” Charles ventured a smile. “It’s my fault. I understood a while ago. I ought to have said something then. But I didn’t want to offend you either.”

Erik breathed out, a sigh of both relief and loss. “That’s – it’s all right, then. That I’m … what I am.”

“Homosexuality’s more common than most people admit. I’ve realized that since I first started reading thoughts. And as far as all that talk about ‘deviancy’ or ‘sexual immaturity,’ it seems to me homosexuals aren’t terribly different from heterosexuals, down deep.” His conversation was taking a turn for the academic – one way he often tried to deal with awkward situations. This moment demanded more. Charles took a deep breath and tried again: “Is there anything I can do to make it easier? I suppose – I could always get my own rooms from now on – ”

“Don’t. Let’s go on as we have. I won’t trouble you with this again.” Erik’s lips pressed together, a thin tight line of resolve.

Charles hated feeling the weight of Erik’s disappointment – heavy and bleak, settling over the room like a cloud – but more than that, he hated being the source of it.

Should he drop the subject now? What he wanted to say next would probably be more painful than helpful to Erik tonight – but in the long term, Charles thought, Erik would probably appreciate it.

So he gently took Erik’s hand in his own and whispered, “I truly wish I could.”

For the first time, Erik’s composure slipped – a look of such raw yearning and pain that it cut Charles to the heart – but he had control of himself again in an instant. He lifted Charles’ hand to his mouth and kissed the knuckles, hardly more than a brush, before letting go.

That night, as they lay in their twin beds pretending to sleep, Charles couldn’t shake the knowledge that of all the girls he’d taken to bed, both of the women he so far felt he had loved, not one of them had touched him with half as much emotion.

He was not in love with Erik. But Erik was more deeply in love with him than anyone else had ever been.

**

After some minor uncertainty the next morning, they carried on much as they had before. Charles attempted his first joke before lunchtime; Erik was at ease by midafternoon. The longing within Erik hadn’t diminished, but that would come in time, Charles was sure. What mattered now was that Erik felt accepted rather than rejected, assured of the strength of their friendship, and he did. By that evening, when they went to their separate beds rather easily, Charles was almost ready to declare it over and done with. There was even some chagrin at thinking himself so easily put aside.

He couldn’t have been more wrong.

Erik’s desire for him remained under strict control, fenced in by the iron gates of Erik’s considerable will, but it was always there, ever-present. If anything, the emotion only strengthened, until it underlay every word Erik spoke to him, practically every moment of his life at the school. With effort, Charles could turn his attention from it, but it was like walking away from a fire in the fireplace – the heat and light remained, constant and steady. Welcoming. Erik’s love was hard to ignore.

As their friendship deepened the next few weeks, spring warming closer to summer, Charles learned even more about Erik. Yes, his initial sense of Erik’s mind had given him many of the facts of the life he’d led – but understanding, putting knowledge into context, that took time.

(It had taken Charles far too long to understand this.)

Only slowly did he comprehend the depth of Erik’s anger at the world – how far it reached, how easily it might overwhelm the goodness in him.

Even more slowly did Charles realize how extraordinary that goodness was – how unlikely it was in the heart of someone who had known far more cruelty than kindness, far more coldness than comfort. How strong it was to have survived so long, and how that was no guarantee it would survive forever. Erik awed him … in his menace, his gentleness, his resolve, his anger, and in the way that at the heart of this storm, a tiny flicker of hope burned on.

The hardest knowledge to take in was the understanding of just how profoundly Erik loved him.

When Erik awoke, he woke thinking of Charles. His sexual fantasies – curtailed, out of courtesy to the telepath in the house, but unavoidable – took endless inventive twists and turns, never losing their passion or fire. Every conversation they had fell into Erik’s waiting hands like a stone to be polished into a jewel; he relished every compliment, every confidence Charles could give. Charles found himself giving more and more. How could he not give the best of himself to someone who treasured it so? At night, when they parted for their separate bedrooms, Erik’s heart broke a little. Every night. The pain never got worse, but never got better. It was as much a part of the day’s end as the sunset.

That kind of love deserved to be returned.

“Deserve” had little to do with love, as Charles knew full well. He’d been on the wrong side of that exchange a time or two. But the boundless emotion he found in Erik couldn’t help but affect him. Erik not only deserved love; he needed it. This man had been far too alone for far too long. And they were already so close. Was it impossible to imagine getting closer?

He cherished Erik’s company. Looked forward to seeing him every morning. Thought of him even when he was absent. Smiled when he entered the room. It wasn’t unlike having a crush.

Slowly, deliberately, Charles turned his imagination to the stray glimpses of desire he sometimes caught from Erik’s mind: His naked body beneath Erik’s, their mouths hot against each other, his hand on Erik’s cock. Viewed through Erik’s mind, they were portraits of pure desire; through his own, they seemed – ungainly, at best. But that lessened the more he made himself think of it, and if Erik were really there with him, if that torrent of emotion surrounded Charles the whole while –

It might be all right, mightn’t it?

Charles had gotten no farther than that the night they sat up until one in the morning, stretching a chess game out deliberately to amuse each other. The challenge was no longer checkmate; it was to prolong the game by any means necessary.

“Your last rook?” Charles laughed as he took a sip of his brandy; they were on their second bottle. “We’re going to be down to pawns and kings in a moment.”

Erik slid the black rook into the sacrificial square. “Imagine how long this can take now. If we don’t exchange any more pawns, we could be at it until noon.”

Out of perversity, Charles refused to take the rook, instead edging his king farther into a corner where no one would pursue. “It’s interesting, really. Turning the game to a whole new goal. It makes you see the pieces in a different way.”

“Hmmm.” Erik never took his eyes from the board, but a surge of emotion rushed through Charles – Erik’s desire to keep the game going, the better to keep Charles close to him just an hour or two longer. All he asked was to be near him, and to hear his laugh.

Maybe it was the humility of that wish. Maybe it was the glass of brandy. Maybe it was the moment Charles’ last wisp of good sense was worn away. Whatever it was, everything changed in that instant.

Charles gulped down the last of his glass; Erik hardly seemed to notice. When Charles spoke, it came out uneven, almost shaky: “Erik?”

“Yes?” Erik’s concentration remained on the game.

“I could try.” The words came out in a rush, and yet it felt so good to say them – like Charles had been holding his breath for hours and only now allowed himself to exhale. “For you, I could try.”

“Try what?” Erik glanced up, only his eyes moving.

Charles leaned closer; his hand rested on the chessboard between them on the sofa, tilting the board so that a few pieces fell on their sides. As Erik straightened, confused, Charles hesitantly put the other hand to Erik’s cheek.

Erik breathed in sharply; hope and fear mingled in his mind, equally overpowering. Charles wanted to take away all the fear and leave only hope behind.

So he brought his mouth to Erik’s. The kiss was quick, dry, clumsy. And yet the surge of happiness and need that washed past Charles made it as passionate a touch as he’d ever shared with anyone.

Erik lifted his hand to cover Charles’ against his face as he whispered, “You said you were – ”

“I am. But I – Erik, I love you.”

The look on Erik’s face then – Charles could have drunk it down like wine. And it was astonishing to realize he’d spoken from the heart, spoken the truth, and how blurry the line between “love” and “in love” truly was. Maybe they were closer than Charles had dreamed.

Charles continued, “If this is what you want, what you need, I can see if – maybe – maybe it could work.” He brushed his thumb along the line of Erik’s cheekbone. “Shall we try?”

The answer was another kiss, far more involved than the last. Charles found himself in Erik’s arms, let Erik open his mouth and tried to surrender to the touch. It wasn’t as hard as he would have thought; kissing, at least, wasn’t that different whether you were kissing a woman or a man. If he was all too aware of the chessboard tilted between them, if his own body remained unmoved, the consolation was the heat radiating from Erik – the heat and the pure, blinding joy.

“I love you too,” Erik whispered between kisses on Charles’ throat. “My God. Is this happening?”

“Yes,” Charles murmured as their mouths came close again. “This is real.”

When he shut his eyes and gave in completely to the emotions coming from Erik, this was nice. Better than nice. Charles imagined himself a surfer, catching waves he didn’t create or control, enjoying the thrill of the ride. And it was incredible to sense that sorrow within Erik lifting, to know that for once this man who so desperately needed happiness had been given as much as he could feel.

They remained like that a very long time, entwined in each other’s embrace, necking like teenagers in a movie theater balcony. But Erik wanted so much more than this, no matter how hard he was trying to control that wanting for Charles’ sake.

And yet Charles had to struggle for the courage to give it to him.

Finally, after nearly half an hour, when Erik pulled back to gulp in a deep breath, Charles whispered, “Will you come to my room?”

From Erik came a sharp spike of desire, combined with nearly as strong a sense of uncertainty. “Are you sure?”

Charles ran one hand through his floppy hair. “Not in the slightest. But it’s like I said. For you, I’ll try.”

“We don’t have to.” Good God, Erik was practically glowing. His fingertips brushed along the lines of Charles’ face and neck almost reverently. “This alone – it’s more than I expected.”

That sounded good to Charles, but Erik had been forced to control his desires long enough. Charles began this to set him free.

He took Erik’s hands in his own. “I don’t know how much I’ll be ready for,” he confessed, “but let’s find out.”

“Charles – ”

“I want to,” Charles insisted. His breaths came shallow and fast, catching their rhythm from Erik’s body, which thrummed with anticipation. “Will you?”

“Yes.” The word was hardly out of Erik’s mouth before he kissed Charles again, long and hard.

If there was lots of kissing, Charles thought, really, he’d be fine.

**

They stumbled into Charles’ room, half in each other’s embrace, and he heard the lock twist shut behind them. Erotic, the thought of Erik wanting to seal the two of them away from the world –

\--until Erik’s hand cupped his ass, and Charles realized he had greatly overestimated his comfort level with this kind of thing.

“Slowly,” he whispered against Erik’s cheek. “I need you to take it slowly.”

Dear God, Erik’s grin could be fierce. “I can go slow.”

Charles had to laugh at himself. “I’m acting like some bashful virgin.”

“You are a virgin, in a way. I’ll take care of you.”

So protective. Charles felt as if he ought to make some sort of joke about that as well, but he didn’t want to. He liked the idea of Erik being slow and sure.

Erik walked Charles backwards toward the bed, until the edge of mattress caught him at the back of the knees and he fell onto the silk coverlet. Charles expected Erik to instantly pounce upon him, and was trying to brace himself for it. Instead, Erik knelt on the bed beside him, bending to caress the side of Charles’ face with his hand. “That first day, when you saved me – within an hour of meeting you, I wanted you.”

His fingers trailed along Charles’ throat to the collar of his shirt. Erik began unfastening the buttons, one by one, taking his time. Charles knew his heart was beating so hard Erik had to be able to see it thumping in his chest.

“When you said you knew everything about me, I thought you had to be disgusted by what I was. What I wanted. That you’d believe I was deviant or sick.”

Erik peeled open the unfastened shirt, revealing Charles’ bare chest. His thumb brushed from Charles’ Adam’s apple, along his breastbone, into his navel, down to the band of his trousers. Charles breathed in sharply.

“Then I realized – you were asking me to stay. You knew everything about me, or at least you had to know that much, and you still wanted me with you.”

His belt buckle was undone. His trousers unzipped. When Erik reached to tug Charles’ slacks away, Charles lifted his hips to help, then shrugged the shirt away. Now he wore only his boxers, was covered only by the heat of Erik’s gaze. He was still more nervous than turned-on, but the rush of pure arousal radiating from Erik – it suffused Charles. Subsumed him.

“That was when I realized I didn’t just want you. I loved you.”

Erik peeled off his turtleneck, rose from the bed just long enough to impatiently tug down his jeans. The magnificence of his naked physique was something Charles could appreciate, even in the abstract. But seeing another man’s cock hard for him – jutting from Erik’s body, wanting release from Charles – it took some getting used to, and Charles wasn’t used to it yet.

“That was as close as I ever came to leaving. Did you realize that?” Erik crawled back onto the bed, but he only lowered himself beside Charles, not atop him. His nude form appeared so strangely vulnerable curled upon the bed. “In the end, I was more afraid of loving you than being controlled by your mind. I could have conquered your mind, in time. But not this.” His hand rested against Charles’ chest. “I never dared to hope you’d want me too.”

Charles turned toward Erik, a tide of warm feeling pushing him past his reluctance. “Dare to hope,” he whispered. “That’s what I want for you, more than anything else. I want you to dare to hope.”

Erik kissed him again, then pulled the coverlets over them, perhaps understanding that Charles needed to feel less exposed. They curled together, making out as they had downstairs – Erik’s tongue in his mouth, along his neck, tracing the curve of an ear. But now Erik’s naked body was pressed against his, his erection hard against Charles’ thigh. The desire Charles drew from Erik couldn’t entirely erase his own nervousness, or the strangeness of it all.

Well, it was one thing for it to be strange for him; Charles didn’t see any way around that. But he didn’t want it to be strange for Erik. He wanted this to be good. Against Erik’s shoulder, he whispered, “Tell me what to do for you.”

Erik hesitated, and through his mind came a series of images both dizzying and intimidating for Charles. He whispered, “I want you to touch yourself. What do you use?”

“Oh – here.” Charles fumbled for the lotion in the bedside table drawer. As he squirted it into one palm, Erik took that hand, so that the cream spread and warmed between them. Then Erik began stroking himself, slow and steady, waiting for Charles.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t jacked off in front of other boys before. Charles hadn’t done that since middle school, but this wasn’t so different, was it? He took his half-hard cock from his shorts and got to work. Erik groaned as he watched him, working himself the whole while, and Charles wondered if that was really going to be it.

Then Erik said, “Now do me. I’ll do you.”

Charles took hold of Erik just as Erik’s fingers closed around him. That first moment when he touched Erik – the arousal arced so sharply between them that Charles wondered if Erik was going to get off just from that, and whether he was going to get off just from feeling it happen for Erik. It was incredible, to be wanted like that.

Erik bit his lip, sucked in a breath, regained control. Then he got to work. God, Erik had large hands – strong hands – and he was jerking Charles off just right –

 _It’s not so different than a circle jerk, really,_ Charles thought as he returned the favor. _Simple. Easy. Just work him with the wrist – faster – faster again._

“Charles,” Erik choked. He tried to kiss Charles again but they were both moving too fast; they could only pant into each other’s mouths. Charles found himself moaning, shutting his eyes, thinking of nothing but the pressure sliding up and down his cock, squeezing him tight.

He screwed his eyes shut as he came, the world going black as he spurted across Erik’s hand, on both their bellies and chests. In the moment Charles thought he would lose his grip, Erik climaxed too, crying out hoarsely, just once. Then they were breathing hard, sticky, wrapped around each other.

Charles hadn’t asked himself how he would feel afterward. It was deeply strange to have made love to another man, even one he treasured as he did Erik. But his body thrummed with satisfaction, and from Erik he felt all the happiness, all the peace, Charles could ever have wished for him.

And just a sliver of doubt – “You’re all right?” Erik whispered. He trailed two fingers through Charles’ hair. “You’re sure?”

Charles rolled onto his back and grinned up at him. “A pleasure being deflowered by you. We’ll have to do it again sometime.”

Erik muffled his laughter against Charles’ shoulder, and Charles finally, finally relaxed completely in his embrace.

Sleeping beside him turned out to be even easier than the kissing.


	2. Chapter 2

“I’m not interrogating you,” said Moira MacTaggert. “I’m only asking about your progress.”

“How is that not an interrogation, exactly?” Charles folded his arms as best he could while keeping the phone receiver cradled on one shoulder.

“Professor Xavier – ”

“Call me Charles, please.”

“Is that supposed to be charming? You’re not as good with women as you seem to think.”

 _But better with men than I ever suspected._ The private joke made Charles smile despite himself and gentled his reply. “I only meant, I’m not currently in academia. And if it’s not an interrogation, we might as well be informal, right?”

“Right. Of course.” Moira relaxed; he could hear it in her voice. “I don’t mean to be hostile.”

“And I don’t mean to be paranoid.” Maybe desire hadn’t been the only emotion bleeding over from Erik. “It’s just a sensitive topic for many of us here. We want to work with you, but not for you.”

“I understand that.” Moira hesitated. “Not everyone here does. But I do.”

Of course she did. He’d always had a good feeling about her, really. “Listen. Tell me what they want to know. Then I’ll tell you as much as they need to know. How about that?”

“You have a gift for compromise.”

Charles and Moira got through the conversation easily after that, and he was still smiling as he hung up the phone, which was when Erik walked in.

Neither of them spoke at first; they just grinned crazily at each other. Erik’s heart was so full it was spilling over them both.

“Haven’t seen enough of you today,” Erik said as he shut the study door behind him.

“With you creeping out at dawn – ”

“The others can’t know. You realize that.”

“—and the kids all over the place the entire day – well. Not much chance to be alone.” Charles leaned against the windowsill. “Or to tell you how much I enjoyed last night.”

Erik stepped closer, his smile fierce again. “Not as much as you’ll enjoy tonight.”

The first thought that flashed through Charles’ mind was _Again? Already?_ Which was idiotic of him. They were lovers now, and the intimidation he still felt – well, that would pass. He’d get used to all of it.

Besides, there would be more kissing. And as Erik bent closer, drawing Charles into his arms again, Charles was reminded just how much he liked that part.

**

That night, in Erik’s room, Charles took his own clothes off this time – all of them, since he’d never shucked his boxers the night before. Erik’s eyes widened at the sight of Charles naked, reveling in him.

“No one’s ever looked at me the way you do,” Charles said, trying to calm the butterflies in his stomach as he joined Erik on the bed. “Or is likely to, given that I’m – well.”

“What?” Erik pressed a kiss to the center of Charles’ chest.

“A pasty, skinny man who’s spent the past five years mostly in the library stacks, and looks it.” Charles shook his head in resignation. “Unlike you. You’re like some kind of Charles Atlas advert.”

Erik’s hand began smoothing a path up Charles’ thigh until his thumb curled along the pelvic bone. “You’re beautiful. You know that.”

“I’m all right.” The reactions he got from women – while rarely as enthusiastic as he hoped – told Charles that much. “You’re the extraordinary one. Physically, I mean. Obviously my incredible intellect and unparalleled genius – ”

This won the reaction he was looking for; Erik playfully pushed him down on the bed and kissed him so thoroughly that Charles could start to let go again.

Then he caught flashes of what Erik was dreaming of, and once more, he tensed. The idea of another man inside him, of being fucked – he could picture it, but Charles couldn’t yet imagine wanting it. Mostly it still scared the hell out of him.

“Shhh.” Erik’s lips brushed against his temple. “I told you, I’ll take care of you.”

Charles embraced Erik even as he protested, “I’m your lover. Not your student.”

“Maybe you can be both, for a while.” They kissed long and wet, and Charles very deliberately forced himself to relax, to pay attention to how Erik’s body felt next to his own. It remained weird to him to have a lover larger than himself, more muscled. To feel another man’s cock hard against his own thigh. And yet when he ignored his body’s instincts – when he immersed himself in what Erik was feeling, the rush of arousal and eagerness that coursed through every limb, every bone – that was delicious.

Erik licked at the corner of Charles’ jaw, the skin beneath his ear, and his voice was hardly even a whisper. “Will you bring me off like you did last night?”

Charles nodded, happy in a mixture of anticipation and relief. “Will you do the same for me?”

“Maybe. If you’re very, very good.”

He liked being teased, Charles decided – not least because it was so wonderful to hear Erik being playful. To feel happiness radiating through him, illuminating places in his soul that had been left dark and lonely too long. To see Erik’s smile only inches from his own.

So he slicked his palm and took Erik in hand. This time, Charles started slow; Erik wasn’t the only one who could tease. When Erik would thrust impatiently against his palm, Charles would speed up, tighten his grip, get Erik close –then slow down again, even release him, or circle the head with his thumb. Erik’s erection tightened within his fingers, so hard it had to ache. Hey, maybe he was good at this.

“Damn you,” Erik growled once against his shoulder.

“Just making it last. Don’t you like it?”

“I love it. And I hate it. Come here.” Erik grabbed some lotion for himself, and Charles felt his cock swell and his balls tighten with anticipation. But Erik’s hand went between Charles’ thighs.

He had a panicked moment of thinking this was it, Erik wanted to be inside him and he was still very, very much not ready – but Erik simply slicked Charles’ inner thighs, then slung one knee over to straddle him. “Hold your legs together. Tight as you can.” Charles obeyed.

Erik thrust his cock between Charles’ thighs and began pumping – the same kind of motion Charles knew from fucking women, and the familiarity of it aroused him. So did the jagged waves of pleasure coming from Erik with every thrust of his hips. Charles pressed his legs against each other, slid his arms around Erik and closed his eyes, the better to slip his mind in alongside Erik’s and feel it – the smoothness tight around his cock, the pressure and pleasure rising, building, tightening inside him.

Though Erik was silent when he came, Charles felt it – hotness spurting between his legs, and a warm whiteness blossoming through his own head, up from the brainstem, primal pleasure at only the thinnest remove.

Gasping, Erik said, “You liked that.” No doubt he felt Charles’ erection taut against his belly.

“So did you.”

“You’ll like this better.”

And Erik, still shaking from his own release, bowed his head and took Charles into his mouth.

Blow jobs turned out to be astonishingly good no matter who was giving them. Erik was better than most. Charles found himself swearing, thrusting hungrily into Erik’s mouth, completely incoherent within seconds, because Erik was there, his tongue right there, sucking just like he should; one mouth was like any other but the emotion he felt – the satisfaction, the hunger, the love for him – that could only ever be Erik.

“Fuck – Erik, God, yes – fuck, yes – ” Charles felt it rushing over him, turning the world to static, and he jerked out of Erik’s mouth at the very last, coming instead across his throat and his shoulder. He groaned to see Erik like that, stained and sweaty, his lips still swollen and wet.

“For future reference,” Erik murmured as he kissed his way up Charles’ sweaty torso, “you can finish in my mouth. I like it.”

“For future reference, I like coming all over you.”

The fierce grin again. “Then good.”

“Is this enough for you?” Charles wound his arms around Erik’s neck. “I know it’s not exactly … adventurous.”

“For you it is.” Erik covered him with his body, but it was an embrace of affection rather than desire. Maybe that was why Charles was able to relax into it so easily. “This is far more adventurous than most men would ever be.”

Charles imagined himself in a pith helmet, hacking his way through the jungle, only to find Erik in a loincloth. “I want you to be happy.”

“I am. Can’t you feel that?”

It glowed within Erik like the embers of a fire. Charles smiled. “I can. I do.”

They kissed for a while, and then curled down into the covers, Erik spooning behind him. Charles couldn’t stop staring at Erik’s hand holding his, so enormous it nearly covered his hand completely. Against his shoulder, Erik said, “You said – you said we weren’t so different. Men who like other men.”

“No. There’s more stress, more sadness, but I don’t think that has to do with being homosexual. I think it has to do with the disapproval. The ridiculous social stigma. The homosexual couples I’ve sensed together – they seem to be happy together in the same ways heterosexual couples are. Or unhappy together in the same ways, for that matter.”

“I always felt … marked by it.”

“And yet you’re so proud of being a mutant.”

“That gives me power. This makes me vulnerable.” Then he kissed Charles between the shoulder blades. “But it also brought me to you.”

“So did your mutation. So did your will. All of you brought us together, Erik. Every extraordinary and unique part of you.”

Oh, it was bliss, luxuriating in how Erik felt after he said that. Charles closed his eyes and brought Erik’s palm to his mouth for a kiss. After the sex, the awkwardness was gone; he no longer had the slightest doubts about whether this was right for him or for them. Falling in love was about more than just sex, Charles thought; it was about being able to shed all your inhibitions, all the falseness the world demanded, and be wholly, honestly present with one other person. He believed he had never been more present in any moment than he was like this with Erik.

After a while, Erik said, “I never hated myself for it, though lots of homosexuals do. But I still wished I were different.”

“It would be easier,” Charles said. “So that’s understandable.”

“I’ve liked many women. Cared deeply for a few. The ones I’ve had sex with – it wasn’t what I wanted, but it wasn’t unpleasant. The ones I cared about, I even enjoyed.”

Charles now felt he understood that completely, but there was surely no need to say so aloud.

“So I never understood why – if I could get that close – if I could even imagine truly falling in love with a woman, and come so close to desiring her body – I never did. Or why I wanted men so much.”

“Are you expecting me to tell you why?”

“If anyone would know, you would.”

With a shrug, Charles said, “Some parts of the mind are mysterious even to a telepath. I can’t tell you why you desire men. I can’t even tell you why I don’t desire men but fell in love with one anyway. It’s who we are. That’s all.”

Erik breathed out. Obviously he’d been curious about an answer, but there was a sense of liberation as well – like the next best thing to knowing was finding out that he never could know, and so he didn’t have to worry about it any longer.

“You’re a bit of a mystery,” Charles murmured. “I feel like I could know you forever and yet never have you entirely figured out.”

It took Erik a few moments to reply. “That makes you glad.”

“Infinitely.”

“But why?”

Charles turned over to face Erik again. “You like to be very sure of people, don’t you?”

“Of course,” Erik said, as though this were the only possible way to feel.

Sleepily, Charles smiled. “It’s different, when you sense other minds all the time. Everyone becomes so – predictable. Obvious. There’s not much to many people, you know. What little there is may be kind, or intelligent, or otherwise pleasant, but still, within a few days or weeks, I have their measure and there’s an end of it. Not you.” He brushed his thumb along Erik’s chin; stubble was rough against his skin. “You’ll keep me guessing forever.”

Erik kissed the pad of his thumb; as ever, the gentleness from such a rough man surprised and touched Charles. “I hope so.”

Forever. Was this really what it would be like, forever? He hadn’t considered this, before – that if he and Erik remained together, he would never again have real sex. No, sex with a woman: This was real – whether or not it felt real to him yet. Charles couldn’t think of that without a pang of loss, and something almost like fear.

But Erik was worth the sacrifice. He was the mystery, the dark star in his sky, the only person Charles had loved beyond his own life. And now Erik had precisely what Charles had so longed to give him. Hope.


	3. Chapter 3

Things remained much the same for that first month. Though they went to bed together every night, Erik didn’t vary their sex life much – out of consideration, Charles knew. His own frustration with having a male body in his bed rather than a female was mirrored by Erik’s frustration with having a lover who really only wanted to exchange hand jobs.

And yet that frustration mattered so little. They were both compromising their bodies to feed their souls. And that – that was a feast.

Afterglow. Charles had always thought that word old-fashioned, even corny, but now he thought it had a kind of poetry to it. The hours they spent together in bed after making love cast a glow that lingered in every other moment he and Erik shared. That was when they laughed –

 _“Mein Gott, tell me you’re joking.”_

 _“I’m not, Erik – Hank’s trying to come up with all kinds of obscure physics theories to explain the bent garden gate – now he’s suggesting that our collective powers are creating some kind of dimensional vortex – ”_

 _“Poor Hank! Twisting up physics to explain away the obvious.”_

 _“So if you could just control yourself a little more in future – ”_

 _“When you’re with me, I’m beyond control.”_

 _“Very flattering, and totally untrue, as we both know, and besides, I may be rich, but those gates cost money!”_

When they counseled each other –

 _“If you were gentler with Raven – if you made her feel at ease with herself – ”_

 _“I used to try, but every time I did, she thought it was proof I was falling in love with her. Misleading her – it’s worse than anything else I could do.”_

 _“There has to be an alternative less cruel than this.”_

 _“Am I being cruel? Surely she doesn’t take it as hard as all that.”_

 _“You’re a difficult man to get over. I would know.”_

 _“I’ll think about it. Think of something.”_

 _“I’m encouraging her as best I can. I think she might have a crush on both of us, by now.”_

 _“Do I have to compete with my sister?”_

 _“There’s no contest.”  
_  
When they made their grand plans –

 _“If you’re going to call it a school, you’ll have to hire teachers eventually.”_

 _“I hope we’ll find teachers as well as students.”_

 _“Find. You mean, mutants teaching mutants.”_

 _“You approve, I see. Or is that smile because of what you’re doing with your hand?”_

 _“I’m smiling because you see the need for mutants to help themselves._ You’re smiling _because of my hand.”_

 _“Mmm. Well, I can teach sciences. Within a few years, Hank could as well. And who knows who else we might find? We’ll need people for social studies, history, literature –”_

 _“I’ll have to start reading Shakespeare soon, I see. If I want to earn my keep.”_

 _“You always have a place here. With me. You know that.”_

 _“Yes. I do.”_

When they argued –

 _“You honestly think the CIA doesn’t think they’ve bought us? That they aren’t going to pull the leash?”_

 _“There is no leash. If the CIA thinks they have us at heel, then I can only pity their mistake.”_

 _“Is it pity you’ll strike back with, if they come for the students? If they level guns at you?”_

 _“No. I’ll have them put down their guns and forget they ever thought of such a thing.”_

 _“… you’d manipulate their minds.”_

 _“Not gladly. But to defend the children, yes.”_

 _“You said you would never do such a thing.”_

 _“I said I would never do that to you. I said I would never do it lightly, or without cause. That’s not the same as saying I would never do it.”_

 _“So your rules are flexible. You’ll violate other minds as you see fit.”_

 _“Damn it, Erik, you tell us to embrace our mutations and then you despise me for my telepathy. For being what I am. You’ve shut me out of your head, well and good, but I think you want to shut me up in mine.”_

 _“Where are you going?”_

 _“For a run.”_

 _“It’s 4 a.m.!”_

 _“Bright and early, they say.”_

 _“Damn you, get back into bed.”_

 _“I might not draw the line at making love to a man, but I do draw the line at making love to a man who’s afraid of me!”_

 _“Charles. Calm down. Talk to me.”_

 _“Stop giving me that look. I’m not coming back to bed.”_

When they revealed what they used to hide –

 _“Is it so strange that I’m frightened of your power? My God, Charles, compared to you the rest of us are – circus strongmen. Spoon-benders.”_

 _“I suppose it’s one thing if you’re frightened of my power. Another if you’re frightened of me.”_

 _“We cannot be separated from our abilities.”_

 _“Another point on which we disagree.”_

 _“Roll over and look at me, would you? And think. You know my history.”_

 _“And I know that you hate the thought of losing control. With good reason. But I have my own history, Erik. Before I met you, there was only one person I ever told the full truth about myself. That was Raven. And she was afraid of me too. Made me promise never to read her, at all – and to me that’s as natural as breathing, do you understand? Every time I’m with her, every single time, it’s like I’m holding my breath.”_

 _“I never asked you not to read me.”_

 _“But you won’t let me in. Won’t let me go beneath the surface. Sometimes I dream about it, you know? Being able to wholly share myself with another person, someone I love.”_

 _“It’s my weakness. I know that. Can you forgive it?”_

 _“Come here, my friend. Come and kiss me.”_

They could fight and talk and laugh all night long. The lovemaking was only one part of their relationship, and far from the most important one. They both made compromises, but that was only the nature of love. Charles couldn’t imagine wanting anything else.

Until Moira reminded him.

One afternoon a cloudburst appeared virtually out of nowhere, soaking the students who had been running with Moira along the grounds. They came hustling in, laughing and dripping, one by one – Raven teasing Hank, Alex running one hand through his hair so that water droplets sprayed around him, and Sean almost too distracted to notice why he was wet –

\--and his daydreams hit Charles so blatantly that it was all he could do not to laugh. “Sean,” he said gently, “Agent MacTaggart is our friend. Not a pin-up model.”

Sean’s face flushed so deeply that it erased his freckles. “Sorry. Couldn’t help it.”

“Go on.” Charles gave him a pat on the shoulder before sending him upstairs, and then turned to see, coming in last of all, Moira.

She wore running shorts that revealed trim, muscular legs that were nonetheless wholly feminine – and a T-shirt that had been baggy before it got wet but was now a second skin. The combination of the exercise and the rainstorm’s chill had whitened her complexion to a kind of cameo paleness, save for her cheeks and lips, which were rosy pink. Why was damp hair sexy? Charles didn’t know, but it was, and Moira was … very, very damp.

Smiling ruefully as she stepped inside, she said, “Sorry. We’re probably ruining 200-year-old Turkish carpets.”

“No, no. I don’t think this one’s a day over 70.”

Moira laughed, then covered her mouth. “Oh, my God, you weren’t joking.”

“I wasn’t, and I really ought to have been, oughtn’t I?”

“However old it is, I’m not dripping any more water on it.” She bounded up the steps, energetic but graceful, and the lines of her body seemed to etch themselves in Charles’ mind.

Those legs. That small, neatly curved ass. And Charles had always gone for busty girls, but at this moment he couldn’t imagine anything more perfect that Moira’s firm, tiny breasts. In his mind, he stood behind her, peeled off that T-shirt, and brought his hands around her to cup her – because of the wet and the chill, her nipples would be hard points against his palms –

 _Stop it. You’re as bad as Sean. Worse._ Charles went to his desk, determined to work.

It was too late, though; his body had been reminded of exactly what it was missing. And he couldn’t forget again so easily.

The fantasy lingered, grew stronger. Standing behind Moira – cupping her breasts, running his thumbs over her nipples – pulling down those running shorts so he could grind himself against her ass, firm curves around his cock – in his mind she gasped in pleasure, arched her back for him, using her body to beg him to fuck her –

 _Stop it,_ Charles told himself again, but now his body had taken over completely. He was hard, painfully hard; logic and schedules be damned, he had to do something about this, and soon.

His first impulse was to rush to his room and get himself off as quickly as possible. He could daydream about Moira – Moira bending over the desk for him, or Moira crawling onto the bed to ride him, with her damp hair still wet on her forehead and cheeks –

But that felt like cheating. It wasn’t. Just felt like it.

Erik was his lover now. Erik was the person he loved, more deeply than any other in his life. Shouldn’t he try to give this to Erik, instead?

Charles untucked his shirt so he could decently walk the halls, then hurried to find Erik, who was tidying up in the Danger Room. “There you are,” Erik said absent-mindedly as he put away Alex’s combat dummy. “Haven’t seen you all – ”

No need for Erik to complete that thought. The next moments blurred together: clutching Erik’s face between his hands – dragging him down for a kiss – parting Erik’s lips with his tongue, devouring him, forcing himself to pour all his wanting into Erik’s body.

As Charles kissed Erik’s throat and pulled at his shirt, Erik gasped, “This is a pleasant surprise.”

A surprise – it would be. He’d never come to Erik like this, driven only by desire. Never come to him in the middle of the day. Almost never been the one to initiate sex. How Erik must have longed for this. Charles murmured, “Nobody needs us for at least an hour. Let’s go to bed.”

The surge of passion within Erik was so strong that it washed over Charles, blended with the lust he already felt. “Oh, yes.”

Spurred on by the mingled emotions, Charles blurted out, “I want to be inside you.”

Erik went very still. His body did, anyway. His emotions flared like a match exposed to fresh air. “You’re sure?”

“Very sure.”

Charles had done this before. His girlfriend senior year at Harvard, Susie Henson – God, she’d been game for anything, had been the one to suggest it, even – and she must have had practice, because she taught him how. They’d only done it that way a few times; he liked cunt more, so much wetter, so slick, and so perfectly pliable.

But this had its appeal. Made him feel so – dominant, so powerful. And it was just so fucking _dirty._

They practically ran to Charles’ room, where they each stripped off as fast as they humanly could. Erik was hard and eager; even before Charles could touch him, he was on the bed, rifling through the nightstand. “We’ll want more than the lotion.”

“I know.” Charles ducked into the bathroom just long enough to grab the Vaseline. Then he hurried back to the bed, where Erik was sprawled, waiting for him.

Kissing Erik always seemed to split him in two. One half was the man who couldn’t accustom himself to another man’s face next to his, another man’s tongue between his lips. The other half was the half who loved Erik, who needed to be with him so much that there was no distance he wouldn’t cross, nothing he wouldn’t do. That was the half that took over now.

Together they grappled on the bed, kissing, clutching at each other, getting lost. Charles dipped two fingers into the Vaseline and parted Erik’s thighs; Erik immediately lolled back, spreading his legs even wider. Carefully he pushed one finger inside Erik, who arched into it –

(-- _Moira in his daydream, arching back to feel his cock against her ass_ – )

\--and Charles began working him open.

He hadn’t expected Erik to enjoy this so much. Susie had borne it and gladly, but Erik – Erik _loved_ it. When his fingers pushed deeper inside him, Erik would groan, twist, pant. The pleasure surging out from him was already so great that it was taking Charles over, robbing him of his mind and his will. He didn’t mind the surrender any longer, because that was what let him get close to Erik –

\--God, they could get even closer, so much closer than this, if only Erik would let him.

But Charles couldn’t start thinking about what they couldn’t have. Time to think about what they could have, what they did have, together.

“Roll over,” he whispered. That was how he and Susie had done it before; he wanted to start with what was familiar.

Erik did as Charles asked, his belly flat against the mattress. His entire body was taut, eager and ready. Charles lowered himself over Erik and closed his eyes. Now he could only feel. With his skin he felt the smoothness of Erik’s back, the firmness of his ass, the warmth there for him – and with his powers he felt Erik’s almost desperate wanting. Impossible to feel that and not to answer.

At the moment Charles pushed inside, both he and Erik moaned – a ragged sound from Charles, something soft from Erik, almost a sigh. The heat was like a furnace burning him down to nothing but pulse and bone. He had to work for this, had to go slower, had to almost fight the tightness of Erik’s hold around him; Erik sprawled out wider, trying to make it easier. From Erik’s mind came wave after wave of sensation, of satisfaction –

\--and when Charles thrust in deeper, a burst of almost unbelievable pleasure.

There, then. Right there. Charles started to stroke in and out, hard and fast, making sure to hit Erik just where it took to make that sensation wash over them again. Even at the remove of Erik’s mind, it was good for Charles; for Erik, it was beyond anything Charles had sensed from him before.

And it was just such a relief, so blessedly familiar to be fucking someone, to let his hips and thighs and cock move in the way Charles remembered. He braced his hands on either side of Erik’s chest – felt his ribs expand and tighten with every desperate breath – and felt the first give inside himself – not orgasm but the inevitability of it sweeping over him –

Erik tightened around him and muffled a cry against the mattress; he was already there, coming without Charles laying a hand on him. Within a stroke, Charles followed, screwing his eyes shut as his whole body tensed, pulsed, shot into Erik.

For a few seconds they could only gasp for breath; then it took then a little work to disentangle. But when they lay side by side, Charles could properly enjoy the astonished, delighted expression on Erik’s face.

“I didn’t think – I didn’t think you would ever – ”

“Me either.”

“You love me,” Erik said, like this was the first time he’d ever believed it. Charles remembered that he’d only tried this because of his reaction to Moira’s body; if Erik ever knew that, ever guessed it, it would be terrible.

He needed to give Erik more. To try harder. That was all there was to it. The body wasn’t more powerful than the spirit. His lusts weren’t as strong as his love. Surely nothing was stronger than the way he felt when he saw Erik like this – vulnerable. Open. Daring to hope. “I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone else.”

Erik didn’t avow his love in return. He didn’t have to; they both knew that. He just pulled Charles into a kiss that erased the guilt, or most of it, anyway.


	4. Chapter 4

After that, Charles was willing to try more in bed with Erik.

Or to try to try.

“Relax,” Erik whispered, dropping a kiss on Charles’ bent knee. “Just relax.”

“Okay.” As if it were that easy. When they’d joked and flirted about this over their chess game tonight, Charles had felt as if he were finally ready. But his stupid body kept having other ideas.

Erik pushed forward again, this time going back to his hand – his fingers so slick – and yet Charles tensed, refusing to let him in more than a fraction. They breathed out in frustration at the same moment.

“Maybe – maybe if I tried it?” Charles held up his hand; Erik gave him the Vaseline. Easy to lube his fingers, but by now his body was so rigid, so reluctant, that even attempting to open himself hurt. He bit down on his lower lip, wondering if he should just get Erik to force the issue already. Women bled for sex, sometimes. Charles knew pleasure could lie just on the other side of pain. Was this just something he’d have to endure? If he had to do it to prove something to Erik, to himself, then he could.

Instead, Erik pulled Charles’ hand away. “Shhh. Stop.”

“It’s all right. It will be. Really.”

“If you could only see your face.” Erik sounded a little sad, but more fond. “I’ve seen happier people at the Department of Motor Vehicles.”

Despite himself, Charles had to laugh, and then they were together on the bed in each other’s arms. He relaxed into Erik’s embrace, rested his cheek on that broad expanse of shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. You can’t help it.”

“I want to. For you.”

“I’m more than happy when you fuck me.” Erik’s tongue swept a warm line along Charles’ temple. “But I want to show you how good it will feel when I return the favor.”

“Come here.”

They kissed for a while – just kissed – which was still what Charles liked best.

In the past three weeks, ever since that day the sight of Moira McTaggart wet from the rain had driven Charles over the edge, they both had become far more ambitious in bed. Now Erik wanted Charles inside him nearly every time, and had taken to describing it as it happened – how Charles’ cock felt, how good each stroke was – in the hopes of convincing Charles. Hearing him pant the words, beg for more, always sounded hot as hell.

But, despite his best intentions, Charles couldn’t quite follow suit. Happy as he was to have improved the sex for Erik’s sake, he sometimes thought longingly of the nights when hand jobs had been enough. Damned heterosexuality, getting in the way of everything.

“You know, it was a sex scandal around Kaiser Wilhelm II that made the word ‘homosexual’ popular in the first place,” Charles murmured against Erik’s chest. Once again he was becoming academic rather than facing his own awkward feelings. “Only Germans used that term up until that time. Before then, in English, the word was ‘invert.’”

“They used to have another word for it in Germany, too. Some people used it when I was a little boy. ‘ _Warm_.’” Erik ran one hand through his hair, sighed. “I like that better. Too late to bring it back, though.” Then he stilled. “The Kaiser was homosexual?”

“No. But some of his aides were.”

“Good. I shouldn’t have liked to have anything in common with him.”

“As if you ever could.” Charles trailed his fingers the length of Erik’s torso, studying him as closely as if it were the first time. But by now he knew Erik’s body better than anyone else’s, save his own – knew the feverish exercise that created the muscles of his abdomen, knew the reason for each scar. And there, the lone indentation left behind by the chicken pox – an illness he’d been nursed through by the loving mother whose murder had wounded him more deeply than any disease or any torture. The scars her death had left behind … those were the ones Charles was still learning. “That madman. Strutting about begging for a war, and unable to handle it when he got one.”

Erik said nothing, but his body tensed next to Charles’. Then he flung back the sheets and rose from the bed.

“Erik?”

“A shower,” was the only reply.

Charles got up to follow him. “What are you angry about?”

“Sneaking into my mind again?”

“You know full well I’ve obeyed your limits and kept out as much as I can. A blind, deaf and dumb person would know you were angry, Erik.” As Erik turned the old-fashioned taps, and water began to splash from the faucet, Charles leaned against the bathroom doorjamb. “Pardon me for not realizing _Kaiser bloody Wilhelm_ was a sensitive subject.”

“That’s what you think of me, isn’t it? Looking for a war wherever I can find one?”

Charles wanted to groan. “Of course not.”

With a hiss, the shower came on; the room began to fill with steam as Erik stepped under the water and pulled the curtain between them. “I assure you, Charles, when I find my war, I’ll be able to handle it.”

Moments like these were the ones that made Charles long for an hour – even a few minutes – to probe fully within Erik’s mind. Was his fear of a war against mutants even more powerful than Charles already knew it to be? Or was he angry mostly because Charles had, yet again, disappointed him in bed and reminded him of their limitations? Probably it was a mix, but the proportions were hidden, as was any sense of how Charles ought to deal with it.

Gently, perhaps. “Erik?” No reply came. “I don’t think you’re the Kaiser.”

“Astute of you.”

Charles stepped closer to the shower. He could hear the sound of Erik soaping himself, smell the clean bright scent of the suds. “Just try to meet me halfway here, will you?”

A surge of anger from Erik answered him even before the words: “You don’t get to do that.”

“Do what?”

“Use your body that way.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Erik yanked the shower curtain back. “You do it all the time. You want me to see things your way. Do things your way. Because you make love to me against your inclinations, that’s your half of the compromise, isn’t it? You don’t have to concede anything else. The rest is up to me.”

Too taken aback to speak at first, Charles could only stare. His first belligerent response was true enough; he hadn’t been asking Erik to concede or compromise anything tonight. So having Erik stalk out of bed – particularly while Charles was still feeling exposed and strange after their failed attempt to have Erik inside him – was especially hurtful.

And yet. While Erik’s anger might be misplaced tonight, it had the distinct flavor of an argument long-hoarded, words often-rehearsed. Charles might not have bartered that way tonight … but he’d probably done it before, without realizing it. “Using your body” – God, sometimes Erik saw through him so sharply that Charles wondered who was the telepath.

Quietly he said, “I’m sorry. I never meant to do that. Never realized how I might be making you feel.”

Erik breathed out sharply, braced one hand against the water-speckled tile. “And I don’t mean to pretend it’s nothing, what you’ve done for me.”

“None of that.” Charles stepped into the shower with Erik and slid his hands around his waist. The hot water had warmed his skin; the spray stung against Charles’ wrists. “I don’t do this for you. I do this for us. And I enjoy myself, you know. Very much.”

They kissed, then again, and for a while they just got lost in the moment. Charles combed Erik’s wet hair with his fingers, licked droplets from his nipples, caressed his ass and his stiffening cock. Even before Erik slapped off the taps, Charles knew what he needed to do.

“Back to bed,” he murmured as he got out, pulling Erik after him. As they reached the bedside, Erik went for the lotion, but Charles tugged his hands away. “We won’t need it.”

Instead he pushed Erik onto the mattress, on his back, and began kissing his way down. When his tongue circled Erik’s navel, then slipped lower, Erik chucked his fingers beneath Charles’ jaw, a playful touch meant to say, _You can stop if you want; it’s all right._

“I enjoy myself,” Charles repeated, before he took Erik’s cock in his mouth for the first time.

Well, this was different. The taste was surprisingly pleasant – salty and slick in his mouth – but it was harder to do than Charles would have thought. As he tried to figure out how best to manage ( _mustn’t nick him with my teeth – can I get my tongue to_ –), Charles felt a whole new level of respect for all the women who’d ever gotten him off this way, and Erik too. Ultimately he couldn’t do much besides lick and suck, but as he recalled, sucking was pretty much the key thing.

To judge from the way Erik started to groan, he agreed.

It was incredibly gratifying to feel Erik writhe beneath him, or hear how rough his cries became. Charles cupped Erik’s balls in one palm, firm and possessive. At last he felt like he was giving Erik something, just giving it to him, no transaction, no bargain, just the sheer delight of knowing he could get Erik this excited.

Then Erik abruptly jerked back, just before he came. Charles startled as the heat of it spattered against his cheek and throat; he’d never realized how odd that felt.

But he wiped himself clean and snuggled into Erik’s waiting embrace, and everything was right again. “This isn’t me meeting you halfway,” Charles whispered. “This is just where we begin.”

Erik kissed him so fervently that Charles thought he might believe him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moira's backstory here is adapted from comics canon; believe it or not, this version of Joe is _nicer._

The situation in Cuba had them all on edge. Atomic bombs pointed at them all, the galling knowledge that Sebastian Shaw was behind it: when Charles wasn’t picking up blind stark panic from everyone in the immediate vicinity, he was picking up incredible paranoia (especially from Raven) and incandescent rage (Erik, of course.)

And from Moira, something else, too – a deep, gaping sadness.

“I should go after her,” Charles said to Erik as he watched her through a window, walking across a gravel path that led into the gardens. “She’s troubled.”

“She’s wearing a short skirt,” Erik replied.

“If I didn’t notice that, you have no right to.”

The playfulness didn’t much help. Erik’s mood was foul; it was as if all his loathing of Shaw had bubbled to the surface, obscuring every other part of his character from Charles’ senses. “Run after her and flirt, if you want. Meanwhile, Hank and I will make sure the Blackbird is ready for action. That’s what we do when we go looking for a war.”

Charles walked out, mostly to avoid dealing with Erik until the man found some way to vent his temper more productively. But Moira could probably do with some looking after.

He found her on the bench that overlooked the lake, hugging herself against the autumn chill. The sadness surrounding her was so profound that it seemed to darken the sky above them. But Moira tried to smile. “Sorry. I needed a moment.”

“I realize that. But if you also wanted to talk – ”

She shrugged, neither a yes nor a no. They didn’t have a particularly close relationship – more allies than friends – but he felt it was worth trying to reach her. Charles decided to risk sitting next to Moira on the bench. They regarded the lake in silence for a few long moments, and while she remained mournful, he could tell his presence was helpful. A duck glided across the surface, the simplest and most mundane thing, and yet even that was poignant today. If Shaw succeeded – the pond was gone. The duck was gone. Any simple peaceful moments like these would be denied the world for a very long time to come.

Finally he ventured, “Have you spoken with your family?”

“No. I should call this afternoon, before they’re in bed – they live in Scotland, you know.”

“I didn’t, actually.”

“I was born there. Might move back there, someday. I don’t know.” Moira raked one hand through her auburn hair. “If there are any more somedays.”

What could he say to that? For the first time in all history, they were looking at the potential end of the world. There was no comfort to be had. “You could leave us to the CIA, you know. Go on back to your family.”

“I have my duty.”

“Being with the people you love at a time like this – it’s a duty too. And you know Erik and I can manage.”

Moira shook her head. “It would be worse – sitting and waiting – instead of doing something.”

Charles could understand that. But he could also feel how raw her need for her family was. “Do Mr. and Mrs. McTaggart visit you often?”

“Every couple of years or so. The last time … that was ten months ago.” She gave him a look. “And it’s Mr. and Mrs. Kinross. McTaggart was my married name.”

“Oh. Sorry. I hadn’t realized.”

“So I really don’t think about Joe anymore. Well. Small victories.”

“You must have married awfully young.” Would the CIA even hire a married woman? Moira wasn’t inexperienced, so she would have had to have been with the agency for some time. But she was only a year or two older than Charles himself.

“I was a kid, really.” The sadness within Moira deepened, until Charles felt himself being dragged into it too. He imagined it as quicksand around them, sucking them down.

“Listen. It’s none of my business. But if you’d like to talk, Moira – and God knows we need to think about something besides what Khrushchev’s going to do next – ”

Moira blinked quickly, clearly struggling for composure. “Do we have to talk?”

“Of course not. I’m sorry to pry.” Even as Charles started to rise, however, Moira’s hand caught him at the elbow, stilling him.

“That’s not what I meant. I hate talking about this, but I’d like someone to know. To really understand.” She took a deep breath, let it out. “You could just – take it, couldn’t you?”

Charles went very still. “Going into your mind that way – that deeply – I’d literally know everything you knew about it. How you felt, what you did. In every detail. Most people aren’t comfortable with that.”

She considered that for a few seconds. “What I’m thinking about – I wouldn’t be comfortable with that regardless.”

“You’re sure?” He could scarcely believe it.

“Maybe I’m curious about how this telepathy thing works. Maybe I just want to take my mind off all this. But – yes, I’m sure. I trust you.”

And there it was. The one gift no one else in his life had ever given him – the invitation to fully enter another mind, total trust, no fear of his power whatsoever – and it had come not from Erik, not even from Raven, but from Moira? It would have been absurd, were it any less precious.

Mouth dry, breaths shallow, Charles nodded. He brought his hand to his temple, and Moira closed her eyes. Tentatively he sensed her mind, reached in, looking for everything that went with the name Joe McTaggart:

 _A nice boy, her mother said, the kind of boy you ought to spend more time with, and when Joe smiled at her across the room at the ceilidh, Moira smiled back._

Charles could taste the cider. He inhabited Moira’s body, her female form no stranger to him than his own was. The music was so clear, so loud –

 _The back seat of his car with his body heavy on hers, Moira whispered that Joe had to wear something, but he didn’t listen, just pushed inside, and she wanted to shove him off her but what was the point now? It was done, and she held onto him, tried to enjoy it._

Even this? She’d even show him this. Charles felt Joe atop him, could smell his skin and the beer they’d both drunk, and yet he never felt Moira shy away from this revelation. Her memories closed around him even more closely, like a velvet glove that exactly fit.

 _A doctor’s office, and her mother crying, while the doctor said there were places nice young girls could go to get this seen to._

Good God, what a feeling – that first stirring deep in the belly, another living person _inside_ you –

 _Moira begging. Holding her hands over her abdomen. A rushed civil service wedding ceremony, where all four parents looked pale and Joe looked angry._

 _Joe drinking. Cursing. Blaming her because he had to drop out of university. The first time he slapped her with his open hand._

 _The first time he hit her with his closed fist._

Charles felt the pain, knew the swelling that forced its way through the soft tissue around the eye, that pressed down on the cheekbone. More intensely even than that, he felt Moira’s fear and shame and blind anger. Knew what it was like to lie on the floor and leave your face uncovered so he’d kick there instead of the belly, so the child would be safe.

 _Running out into the night with mismatched shoes and no coat, going home to parents who made her stand on the doorstep for almost half an hour while they told her that her place was with her husband. Tasting the blood from the cut inside her lip all the while._

And Charles knew something even Moira didn’t – that this was the moment she’d begun down the path that led her to the CIA, instead of medicine as she’d always wished. That was the moment she wanted to always have strength on her side, the moment she became someone who needed a gun.

 _A hasty divorce. Joe’s parents informing her they didn’t intend to pay a settlement, as the baby probably wasn’t even his._

 _Waking in the hospital. Her mother insisting that it was better if she signed the papers straight away. And better if she didn’t hold him – it would only be harder if she held him –_

Charles took Moira’s hand as he pulled back. He could feel the lump in her throat, blinked back tears that were in her eyes, not his.

She whispered, “Is it a sin to see the whole world about to go up in flames and only be frightened for your own child?”

“No.” He squeezed her fingers. “It’s human.”

Moira flinched; Charles didn’t understand why. Their eyes met, and he knew it was all right to reach again –

 _Voices outside her hospital room. “Someone will take him. He looks fine now.”_

 _“But before – it was like his hand was made out of clay or something!”_

 _“He’s a baby. A normal baby. And don’t you tell anyone different.”_

“Dear God,” Charles said. “Your son – you think he’s a mutant?”

“I don’t know.” Moira bit her lower lip. “Maybe. Maybe not. He might simply have had some mild deformity. Or maybe it wasn’t my baby they were talking about. But I’ve always wondered – and when we found you, all of you, that was the first time in my life I thought I really understood.” Her voice gained strength. “That’s why I’m on your side. Not the CIA’s, not anyone else’s. Because someday, maybe, my son will come to your school. If he is a mutant – then this is exactly where I’d want him to be.”

Wordlessly, Charles took her in his arms. Moira didn’t cry; if anything, she was calmer now that before. She was made of sterner stuff than he’d ever realized. But he retained enough connection to her mind to know how good it still felt to her at this moment, to be held.

He realized then that – under different circumstances, and not extremely different circumstances either – he could have fallen in love with Moira McTaggart.

“Are you all right?” he said, and she understood immediately that he needed to leave her, nodding as she leaned back from him. “Listen. Come into the house. Call your parents from the study. Take as long as you like.”

“The millionaire’s paying for an overseas phone call?” The smile was hard and neat, like it had been when they first met, but Charles understood that now – it was just a piece of her armor. “Big spender.”

“That’s me. The soul of generosity.” He stood up and stuck his arm out, comically exaggerated, which was how she took it, and by the time they reached the house again, she was almost in a decent mood.

That was more than could be said for Erik.

He continue to stalk around all afternoon, grumbling about how they hadn’t loaded the Blackbird with enough weaponry, how the U.S. government didn’t understand what they were up against with Shaw, how they ought to get Emma Frost out and see if she’d help them because they needed every advantage they could get. Charles wanted to assist him, even comfort him if Erik were willing; he knew what facing Shaw again meant to Erik.

Yet Erik was having none of it. He wouldn’t stop, wouldn’t talk, wouldn’t even rest until well after midnight, when he finally walked into Charles’ bedroom … their shared bedroom, by now, in all but name.

“There you are,” Charles said. “You must be exhausted.”

Erik’s weariness hung on him as powerfully as his anger, but he shook his head. “There’s still too much to be done.”

“And you can’t do it if you don’t rest.” Charles patted the bed.

This won him a smile – but one of the fierce ones, and not in a pleasant way. “Hoping I won’t make you fuck me tonight? Too worn out for it, so you get a break?”

For a moment Charles could hardly speak. “That’s not true, and it’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it? I would understand your flirting with Moira better, if it were.”

Good God, all that fury for Shaw and for humanity and there was still some left over for Charles himself. But it was just the pressure getting to Erik; surely it was getting to all of them. “I wasn’t flirting with her.”

“Weren’t you? Looked rather cozy out there by the pond.” Erik stripped off his turtleneck, threw it onto the nearest chair. “But no. Don’t tell me. It wasn’t like that. You were sharing a deep and meaningful experience.”

Charles said nothing.

Erik paused with his hands at his belt. The quality of his anger changed. Before, he really had been venting, not even half believing what he’d said; now real betrayal crept in. “Oh. She means something to you.”

“It wasn’t romantic, Erik,” Charles said, trying to pretend he hadn’t felt a glimmer of emotion for her. Moira’s intentions were platonic, though; he took shelter behind that. “It wasn’t flirtation, what happened today. She – trusted me enough to share something difficult.”

“You hesitated when you said that. Why?”

Why was he feeling defensive? He’d done nothing wrong. Charles pushed himself into a seated position in the bed, ready to face off, if that was what Erik wanted. “Moira let me into her mind.”

He might have thrown a pot of scalding water at Erik and shocked him less. Hurt him less. Erik could only stand there, belt in his hands, emotion pouring out in waves: His fury at the thought of Moira being so close to Charles, his terrible fear at the thought of losing what they had, his frustration at how they were always so close and never close enough.

Charles’ own anger vanished in the face of such vulnerability. “Don’t.”

“She can give you everything I never could.” Erik reached for his turtleneck, clearly ready to dress again and leave. “I’m only surprised it took you this long.”

Pushing himself out of bed, Charles caught Erik’s hands. “I’m not in love with Moira. I’m in love with you. More than I’ve ever been with anyone else.”

“You went into her mind,” Erik said, his voice thin, as if he could hardly get the words out. As though it were something Charles had withheld from him, not the other way around –

Was that something he should have saved only for a lover? Surely not. And yet perhaps Erik had learned to see it that way, as often as Charles had pleaded for it … often in the same hour Erik tried to persuade him for more intimate sex. Charles could have despaired. Being half in people’s minds was more confusing than reading no thoughts at all; it was as though he received only enough information to make sure he’d fuck everything up.

“She needed to share something painful. So painful she didn’t want to speak it aloud.”

“What?”

The temptation was great, but Charles knew he owed Moira this much: “You know I can’t say. Any more than I would reveal your secrets to another. Or Raven’s. Otherwise I’d be exactly the tyrant you’re afraid I’ll turn into.”

Erik twisted free from Charles, but he didn’t walk out. Instead he paced the room, like something caged. Charles stood there without anything he could say. Why did this have to happen now, when they were all already under more pressure than they could bear? But of course, that was the only time it would ever happen.

Finally Erik said, “Do it, then.”

“Do what?”

“Come into my mind.”

At any other time, this invitation would have overjoyed Charles. Now it felt like a wound, though he couldn’t tell whether it was him bleeding or Erik. Both of them, probably. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Nor do I want to.” Erik’s voice shook. “But I’ll be damned if I’ll look like a coward next to Moira McTaggart.”

This was not a good reason. Charles would have said so if Erik hadn’t pulled him close and kissed him. The kiss was unlike any other they’d shared – angry, demanding. Erik backed him against the wall, shoved him into it, hard, thrust his tongue into Charles’ mouth. _Do it,_ Erik thought, so forcefully that Charles could hear the words without even trying. _Damn you, do it._

Charles twisted away. “Not like this – ”

But Erik seized him again, kissed him again, and the raw, overwhelming need he felt tore at Charles. He found himself sliding down along the wall, towing Erik with him, until they were on the floor, kissing and swearing and pulling at each other’s remaining clothes. “You’ll do it,” Erik said as he tugged down Charles’ boxers. “Say you will.”

Impossible to know any more, whether he should or shouldn’t. Impossible to stop himself. Naked and almost blinded by Erik’s desperation and desire, Charles nodded.

Erik kissed him, the final sign of consent. Charles took Erik’s head between his hands – and then slipped inside.

If Moira had been velvet, Erik was steel – but molten, liquid, burning. There was no direction to these memories, no narrative Erik wished to unfold; Charles was lost in the tumult, caught up in the currents, hardly able to remember himself.

 _A taverna in Argentina – smug Nazis with their square faces and superior smiles – the joy of feeling the knife fly into his waiting hand._

 _Drowning beneath the ocean, salt stinging his eyes, sick with the horror that Shaw had beaten him again, wanting only death until the moment he heard a voice in his head that wasn’t his own._

 _Charles in a Savannah hotel room, not turning away from Erik’s longing and love, but smiling gently, holding his hand, a rejection almost sweeter than acceptance –_

“It feels _good_ ,” Erik whispered in astonishment, his breath warm on Charles’ throat. They were sprawled on the floor, tangled together, rutting mindlessly against each other. “Your thoughts are in my thoughts – Charles – ”

Though Charles could hardly find the breath to speak, he whispered, “Read me too. Listen to me too.” They were so connected now that Erik would be able to read him – and that meant he would see all Charles’ failings and flaws, his pettiness and his arrogance, and Charles didn’t even care, because they were too close for it to matter. He wanted to show Erik everything. Give Erik everything.

 _Holding up his tiny hand to show Mama the Hanukkah gelt, and it was so shiny that he didn’t want to spend it on candy; no, he wanted to keep it forever and ever, each single coin –_

 _“Move the coin,” Sebastian Shaw said. Mama stood there so frail and so unsure – so helpless. Everything in Erik’s body reached toward the coin – reaching, reaching as hard as he could, and yet nothing happened until the gun went off._

 _Charles at the chessboard, so unsure that Erik had thought he was scared of something until the moment he said the words, “For you, I would try.”_

“Inside me,” Charles whispered. “Now.”

Erik hardly seemed to hear him, and yet he pawed at the nightstand – just out of reach. Charles rolled them over, atop Erik and then under him again, so that they were close enough.

This time, as he dove into Erik’s mind, Charles was looking for a specific memory, one so close he found it in an instant: Erik splayed on their bed, eager for Charles to fuck him. When Erik’s slicked fingers probed inside him this time, Charles called on Erik’s memories of how that felt – his body responded like Erik’s, resisting only slightly before beginning to give. The pleasure Erik had felt reverberated with the sensations inside him, a doubling that made Charles groan and hang onto Erik as if otherwise he would be swept away.

Then Erik entered him – slow, so slow it made Charles suck a breath in through his clenched teeth. But his body responded as if they’d done this dozens of times, as if it remembered what Erik’s body knew. As Erik began thrusting, Charles felt that doubling again, but so much more intense this time, just like the pleasure at the very core of him –

He lost all sense of where they were. What they were doing. Charles was completely overcome in a way he’d never been before. Erik’s mind kept unfolding before him, pictures tragic and triumphant and even mundane, but all of them beautiful because they were being freely given. The kaleidoscope of images and sensations didn’t drown out their physical ecstasy; somehow they only made it stronger. Only the barest slivers of the here and now entered Charles’ mind, second-thin and brilliant: his own shouts of pleasure, so uninhibited they echoed from the walls; Erik’s teeth raking along his neck; his cock hard between their bellies, pressed between them by every greedy thrust; Erik breathing so fast and so sharp that it sounded almost like sobbing.

 _Escaped from the camps, alone and afraid but free – freer than anyone had ever been. Despite all Erik’s grief and the gnawing hunger in his belly, he stared up into the cloudless sky, let the sun blind him in his joy, and fell back into soft waiting snow –_

Charles came in one blinding rush. The sensation pierced Erik – Charles could feel that too – and then the doubling peaked, so much more intense than it had ever been before, as Erik thrust one last time, shuddered and went still. Their mental connection broke on impact, but the coming-apart felt as if it were inseparable from the rest.

For a few seconds, they didn’t move. At least Charles thought they didn’t. He wasn’t clear on much. But he felt boneless. Incapable. And satisfied in every possible way.

“You – ” Erik’s voice broke. “You’re all right?”

“Yes.” Charles braced his hands against Erik’s shoulders as Erik separated them; that was the only moment he had even a flicker of pain, and it hardly seemed to matter.

Dizzy and drowsy, they cleaned up and half-crawled into the bed, where Charles spooned around Erik. His mind was swimming from everything they’d done and shared, but he found he liked the sensation.

Against Erik’s back, he whispered, “That was – Erik, if that was anything close to being as good for you as it was for me – ”

“It was.”

Charles hugged Erik more tightly, though his trembling muscles hardly obeyed him. “I love you.”

“And I love you.”

Erik sounded so distant, but then, after the intimacy they’d just shared, even this – snuggling naked next to each other – seemed too far apart. The day’s exhaustion coupled with his body’s satiety, and within only moments Charles was asleep.

**

He awoke in the early hours of the morning. The entire mansion was silent; Erik’s half of the bed was empty.

Charles pushed himself upright, ignoring the slight soreness of his body. At first he assumed Erik had simply taken himself to the bathroom, but no – he wasn’t anywhere very close.

So Charles found a robe, swaddled himself and headed downstairs. Without particularly searching for him, he could nonetheless sense Erik easily; he was the only other person awake in the mansion. Charles went to the study, where Erik sat in a T-shirt and sweatpants, elbows on his knees, staring at the still-dying embers in the fireplace. He didn’t turn as Charles entered, though obviously he realized he was no longer alone.

“You’re troubled,” Charles said quietly. Erik nodded. “Small wonder.”

“This isn’t about the missile crisis. That is only Shaw. We’ll take care of him.”

Charles wished he were that certain. “Then what?”

“Tonight – before – ”

“You seemed all right with it, then.” He took a seat on the sofa as well, but chose the far end, allowing distance between them. “Did I go too far?”

“No. You did only what was most natural to you. I’d never understood before how much you needed that.” Erik looked over at Charles then, almost sad. “And it was – glorious.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” Brushing his hair back from his face, Charles waited for Erik to speak. Already this felt so formal, so unnecessary – negotiating with words, struggling for comprehension. But this was the wrong moment to ask for that link again.

Erik’s dark eyes swept over Charles. “And you enjoyed the sex.”

“Immensely.” No use even trying to resist a grin.

But the smile didn’t comfort Erik. He clasped his hands together and stared down at them. “Before tonight, I never realized – how much you weren’t enjoying it before.”

“Erik. That’s not true.”

“I know I can get you off,” Erik said, “and I know you liked getting me off, but tonight was the first time it was actually good for you. The first time you didn’t think about what you were missing. Every other time, you’ve had to struggle. Admit it.”

Charles measured his response for a few moments. “I never lied about that.”

“No. You never lied. I knew you had to work for what we had together. But before I was in your head, before I felt what you felt tonight and compared it to before – Charles, I knew but I didn’t _understand._ Now I do.”

“You said – you’ve slept with women, and you liked that – ”

“Yes. Well enough. Just not enough to ever wish for it, or think about it. Which is how you’ve felt about sex with me. And I always believed I was giving you more than that.”

“Listen to me.” Charles took Erik’s hand. “I don’t mind working for what we have. Do you understand? I love you. That makes it worth it. Besides, tonight – Erik, tonight went beyond … homosexual, heterosexual, any of it. We’ve found our way together. Don’t you see?”

Erik remained silent for a while before he said, “I don’t think I can let you inside my head all the time. I’m not sure I can ever do it again.”

“What? But – why?”

“It was glorious,” Erik said quietly. “And it made me surrender everything I was. In that moment, you could have made me think anything, do anything. Don’t even say it, Charles; I realize you wouldn’t. But just the memory of that feeling … it terrifies me. Even worse would be getting used to it. No. I won’t do that again.”

Disappointment descended, crushing Charles under its weight. How could Erik see what a gift it was – for both of them – and yet hate it so? But he’d have to deal with that later. He swallowed hard, then managed to say, “Then we can carry on as we have been.”

“I can’t. Not knowing how difficult it is for you.”

“Stop making it sound so bad! If you’ve seen where it was awkward for me, you must also have seen where it was good. Remember that, will you? I do.”

“Listen to me.” Erik squeezed Charles’ hand and met his gaze evenly. “You loved me enough to try this. I love you enough to stop trying.”

For a moment, their old friendship beckoned. They could go back to chess games and banter over drinks. Back to being each other’s partner and comrade. And – hadn’t it been good then?

But they couldn’t go back, not really. They’d gone too far, become too close. The divisions between how they saw the world – between Erik’s fear and suspicion of humans, and Charles’ determination that they could all find a way to coexist – they needed the strongest bonds to overcome those, nothing less. Charles knew that losing Erik as a lover meant losing him completely. That he could not endure.

He laid his free hand on Erik’s cheek. “It’s the kindest offer you have ever made me. And I can’t accept.”

“Charles – ”

“I love you too much to let you go. Especially not after tonight, when we were closer than ever.”

“Closer than ever. Farther apart than ever.” Erik kissed his palm, but it was a gesture of surrender. “You’re my paradox.”

Charles folded Erik into his arms; Erik didn’t resist. Maybe that was as much as he could ask for now. “We’ll talk after Cuba.”

If, of course, there was an after. But there had to be. They had to dare to hope.

Erik hardly seemed to be listening, but he hugged Charles back; that was good enough. As they embraced, Charles found himself remembering that first night they’d spent as lovers, the way he’d kissed Erik for the first time right here in this study. They had been playing a chess game beyond any concept of win or loss – just extending the game, only to stay together.

“Now come to bed.” Erik gave him a look. Charles added, “To _sleep_. I want you with me.” For as long as he could have him – however long that might be – and on whatever terms: Charles thought the details no longer mattered. Was there anything he wouldn’t give up to keep Erik by his side? Charles hoped never to find out.

When Erik rose, Charles stood with him, and they walked back to the bedroom they shared. They undressed each other with a tenderness that had nothing to do with sex. Charles folded Erik against his chest and tried to rest. When he could not, he settled for listening to the slow rise and fall of Erik’s breath, to staring out the east window and wishing back the dawn.

 

THE END


End file.
